


Last Saturday Night

by irene_addling



Category: Castle
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irene_addling/pseuds/irene_addling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nothing happens in Atlantic City because it would be freaking cliche for something to happen in Atlantic City." 500 words post-"Heartbreak Hotel", if only to make the episode title a little more fitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Saturday Night

If him and Ryan were Raley and Ocha, and Castle's subtext was text, they'd have had a drunken hook-up at the bachelor party and woken up together with the denial a bit more difficult. Truth is, nothing happens in Atlantic City because it would be freaking cliche for something to happen in Atlantic City. Or, at least, nothing that Esposito can remember-he'd gotten so fallen-down drunk most of the night was a blur.

That is, he thinks he's avoided cliche until he rolls out of bed the next morning and sees a hickey straining against his collarbone. And he instinctively knows that it wasn't one of the strippers from the show, or some girl he picked up on the casino floor.

Great. He's closeted bi, in love with his straight best friend, and now he's living the lyrics of Katy Perry (even though last night was Saturday, but hey, it sort of fits if you sing the verse fast enough). When he tries to avoid being a stereotype, he manages to fall headfirst into one anyway. And the worst part? He's not stereotypical enough to own makeup or justify wearing a scarf, and it's not cold enough for a turtleneck even if he had packed one.

Castle, of course, comments at their hungover breakfast/lunch. "Was she hot?"

A popped collar not only looks pretentious, but also hides nothing, Esposito thinks grimly. "Totally. Bartender's assistant. Blond."

Castle smirks. "Nice."

Ryan hasn't said a word, picking at his eggs. His coffee's black, Esposito notices, a cheap hangover cure. Of course he's hungover. You have to be drunk to forget your upcoming life commitment and suck a hickey on your best friend's neck behind a slot machine. (And apparently he hasn't forgotten the entirenight. Just the insignificant parts.)

"When are we heading back?" Ryan asks quietly. He doesn't sound post-party tired. He sounds I-regret-something tired.

"As soon as we finish eating, find a cab," Castle manages.

"Get home to Alexis, huh?" Esposito asks.

Castle nods. "Yep." He gets up, pushes his chair in. "If the check comes, call me. I'm talking to the receptionist about hiring a driver."

No, no, Castle, bad idea,but before the words are out of Javier's mouth, Castle's gone.

"Bartender's assistant? Really?" Ryan's (Kevin's) tone is too accusing to be passed off as a joke. "I thought you felt more highly of me, Javi."

Dead men, Esposito thinks, tell plenty of tales. He gulps. "What did you want me to say?"

There's no answer.

"Not a word to Jenny, anyone. Never happened. Right?" It's usually Kevin's line, but Javier knows the script by now.

"As usual."

It's a bachelor party. It's supposed to be a time for last chances, right? He could take that chance, right now. Ask Kevin to stop lying. Give him a reason to stop lying, rock the Precinct's unspoken code. Together. Really together.

Then what? That's the question that always stops him.

"I'll get the check."


End file.
